Minimum Ride
by florastiel
Summary: Kate's a human-avian hybrid living the life of  a normal teenager, with, you know, wings. Not only must she deal with minor middle school drama, but also Erasers? If only she could find some help...
1. Prologue

**Minimum Ride **

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Prologue

I rolled over again. This was probably the third, maybe fourth, time I'd woken up. I finally threw in the towel and sat up. I swung my feet over the edge of my bed. "Ughh." I moaned as I stood up, sliding my feet into my slippers, waiting ever-so-patiently by the bed. I checked the time on the wall clock hanging next to my closet, on the opposite wall. _Three__-__thirty__? __Really__?_

my mind thought sluggishly as I trudged to the bathroom.

At this point, life is a sort of suckfest. Yeah, whatever, I know you guys are all like 'You shouldn't be so ungrateful, a lot of kids would love to be you, yada yada yada', but take my word for it, my life sucks at the moment.

Sorry to be dumping all this on you. Sometimes I just need to talk it out, you know?

I let out a short, regretful sigh. I unfolded my wings a bit, making my baggy T-shirt stretch out.

What? Oh, _that__..._


	2. Chapter 1

**Minimum Ride **

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 1: An Odd Up-Bringing

So sorry, where's my manners? Hello, I'm Kate, and it might have occured to you, I have wings. Yeah, I know, that sounds really freaky and fake, but I'm tellin' ya, they've been on my back for as long as I can remember. How, you ask? You might have heard of a facility lab from Hell, called the School. No? Well, it's right there, smack dab in the middle of Death Valley, on the road paved with good intentions. Hard to miss.

It just happens that when I was born, doctors told my parents I had to be put on life support - fake - and the only way to save me was to let a genius doctor treat me for a rare disease only to be carried by premature infants - also fake. This so-called genius was an evil scientist named Ter Borcht, who frankly needs to find a new hobby. I was experimented on, grafted with avian DNA, to such a point where I'm only 98 percent human, and 2 percent of what I like to call 'Avian American'. Fun combo, eh? Turns out, when my parents got me back, I had goofy little baby wings folded against my back. Of course this wasn't discovered until my parents brought me home and gave me a bath. So, when my parents went back to the hospital the next day for some answers, all the doctors had scattered, leaving only confused nurses and unhappy patients.

So now I'm just Alyssa (twelve), living an almost normal life with my parents and my sister. Yep, I have a totally normal, 100 percent human sister, Payton (fifteen). Since she was only three when my parents brought me home, she has no idea about the whole 'Avian American' thing. We've decided to keep it a secret from her, for apparent reasons like 'She'll tell everyone, then we'll never be left alone.' Stuff like that.


	3. Chapter 2

**Minimum Ride **

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 2: Living an (Almost) Normal Life

As you might imagine, I have to keep my wings on a need-to-know basis, which just includes my parents, maybe a few friends. So, when my sister opened the bathroom door joining her room to the bathroom, you might guess I had to pull my wings in tight, thanking God she couldn't see me from where she was walking to the toilet.

"Get up, I gotta pee." she said, still half asleep. Her unbelievably curly hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and she had her glasses on, as opposed to her contacts.

"Yeah, whatever." I muttered and got up, pulling my wings in tighter, making them ache. Pain was worth being left alone.

I took a second to brush the worst tangles out of my hair, then headed to the kitchen.

I opened the pantry and grabbed a package of poptarts out of the box. After tearing them open, I popped them into the toaster, setting the dial on medium. I then headed to the fridge, opened it, and pulled out the orange juice. I poured myself a cup just as Payton walked into the kitchen.

"Mornin', Payt'n." I said brightly, carrying my juice to the toaster, where my poptarts were still toasting.

"Hi.." she mumbled sarcastically, no doubt still grouchy from waking up. She got a box of cereal from a cabinet and poured a bowl full of what looked like fruit loops.

Just then, my poptarts popped up, making me jump. I turned to the toaster and took the poptarts out, dropping them onto a plate. I carried the plate and my cup of juice to the coffee table in the living room. I plopped down and clicked the TV on. I flipped through many channels on the guide, including one about dog whispering (WTH?) and another about hoarding. I finally decided on a show about cake decorating. I sat back and grabbed a poptart, basically ate it in two bites, and then grabbed the other. I ate that one in the same manner, and drained the juice. Another thing, I eat way more than any mamby-pamby human teenager. I usually consume 3,000 or 4,000 calories a day, even though I maintain a normal, if not really skinny, weight, thanks to my super-light bird bones. Just another joy of being an genetically modified bird kid.


	4. Chapter 3

**Minimum Ride **

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 3: All Roads Lead to Suspicion

After Payton had left for her friend's house, I immediately made a surplus of eggs and piled them on bread. I knew I couldn't eat like this in front of my sister, so I always found a way of smuggling more food after she had gone to do whatever she was to do that day. Usually I just hang back after she heads to school with her friend, Taylor. Since Payton was just learning to drive, she usually caught a ride.

Anywho, after I had gotten dressed, I pulled on my favorite jacket. It was black leather on the outside and a thin fleece on the inside, except for the sleeves. After we had bought it, I had taken scissors to it, slashing slits in the back from my shoulders to my waist. Gotta let the wings out, man.

I swung around the doorway to the living room, where my mom, Shari, was.

"Mom, can I go to the park?" I asked. Mom looked up from what she was doing. Either she was attempting to crochet or torturing fabric. Hard to tell. She smiled after seeing my confused look directed at the yarn in her hands.

"Sorry," she said fumbling with the ungainly pile in her lap. Once she had cleared it away, she said, "Sure, honey. Want me to drive you?" I gave a half-hearted giggle.

"Nah, s'kay. I'll walk." I said with a smile back. I walked past where she was sitting on the couch and walked quickly to the back door. I opened it and just stood in the doorway a minute, breathing in the fresh air.

I walked down the street that would lead to the park. As I was keeping a steady pace down the street, deep in thought, I noticed a black van that had slowed down and was rolling along right beside me. Creeped out but morbidly curious, I peeked out of the corner of my eyes. I saw that the windows were all tinted to where I couldn't see through them. Not uncommon, but still pretty suspicious. It's not like I was afraid, because I'm stronger than any man (another perk of being genetically modified), but I was really getting annoyed at this point.

Thinking it over, I finally whipped my head up toward them and gave them my fiercest glare, which even on my best day, is pretty dang mean-looking. The van sped up, driving away, leaving me thinking one thing: _What __the __heck __was __that __about__? _


	5. Chapter 4

**Minimum Ride **

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 4: One Reward

After my run-in with the goverment wanna-be van, I picked up the pace toward the park. I turned left, this time having to walk somewhat on the shoulder of the road, instead of a sidewalk. I walked about 30 feet and stopped, surveying the park with my advanced raptor eye sight. After deciding that a team of joggers with strollers, the usual amount of clueless toddlers, and ducks in the pond weren't much of a threat, I looked both ways before crossing the road. I trotted across, not wanting to mix it up with any on-coming traffic.

I walked across a section of the walking track, giving the jogger moms a innocent smile, and then headed through the toddler-grade playground equipment to the edge of the woods. I didn't hesitate, plunging through the tree line and into one of my favorite spots.

My eyes took in the familiar scene: a long, narrow clearing with a few rocks at one end, a deserted tree house at the other. This place held two of the best ways for a take off. I held my finger to my chin and looked at the sky in mock thought. I smiled and ran to the tree house, deciding on my favorite way to get airborne. I grabbed the first wooden board at eye level and put my foot on the one closest to the ground. Smiling, I began to climb.

Once I reached the trap door at the top I pushed it open. I climbed into the small tree house, thankful I was light enough not to fall through the rotting wood. I went over to the largest window, facing the clearing. I took a moment to marvel at how high up this tree house was. Maybe two stories, an unusual height for a tree house, but who cares? Sure as heck not me.

I jumped onto the window ledge, holding the window frame for support. I smiled, thinking of what I was going to do next. I jumped, my light brown hair - no doubt bleached from the sun - streamed behind me, getting caught in a tangle. I loved this. I snapped out my wings, a near ten and a half feet from tip to tip, light blonde primary feathers followed by the lightest of brown secondary feathers. The brown then darkened as the rows of feathers went farther up my wings, ending with a rich mahogany at the top, speckled with white.

I gave a few down strokes and I was high in the air, trying to get out of sight of the people in the park. I flew the opposite direction of the park, heading toward home. I circled back when I hit the edge of the woods, loving the feeling of being high, high enough to where no one could see me or touch me.


	6. Chapter 5

**Minimum Ride**

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 5: Birdie Hear, Birdie Sing

After thirty minutes of flight, I was ready for a break. I flew until I reached the edge of the woods that faced town. I turned away from the town, banking slightly. Turning the bank into a full circle, I ducked beneath the canopy of trees. Soon I was bobbing and weaving through the trees, taking my time because this was a new skill I had yet to master. But, rest assured, I still kept a steady speed to prevent my going _Plop__!_ on the ground.

I spotted a huge Douglas fir tree near the treeline, and headed for it. I landed ungracefully, making the tree sway, gripping the nearest branch for balance. I perched on my branch, leaning my back against the rough tree trunk. Arching my back a bit to provide more room, I spread out my wings, still hot from exercise. I picked part of a leaf off the branch above me, examining it. We had been reviewing these types of trees in science class lately. Trees can be more exciting that you think.

I heard a bird singing, and called back to it. I had always had this strange talent for bird calling. I thought it was just being around them so much, hearing them so many times. Listening, memorizing, learning the language. The bird answered with a shorter song. It was a lower pitched call, as opposed to the usual high-pitch bird songs. A beep from my phone made me jump, shocking me out of my peaceful moment. Pulling the small black phone out of my pocket, I saw it was a text message from Mom.

**Payton's back. Lunch ready in five. Please come home.**

**-Mom**

I grinned down at the message. Mom always text like that, like a robot. Even though I've told her time and time again to just type what she would say on the phone, she still text in short fragments. I guess that's just how grown-ups do it. I slid out my keyboard and replied:

**I'll be home very soon. Please stop texting like a robot. Thanks. -Kate**

Flipping my phone shut, I shoved it back in my pocket. "Here we go again." I said quietly to myself. I held out my arms, brushing them against my wings softly as I leaned forward, falling off my branch. I pulled in my arms quickly, not wanting to mess up my down stroke. I turned tail and streaked toward my cozy little clearing.

**_So sorry about the chapters being so short! I know, it sucks that they're short, but I usually like to post like two or three at a time, so rest assured, you're getting your time's worth. _**


	7. Chapter 6

**Minimum Ride**

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 6: Thank God For Technology

I did a running landing, bounding down the clearing. I slowed to a walk at the end of the clearing, and ducked into the brush. Being sure to keep my wings out as long as I could to cool them from exercise, I stalked through the woods, trying my hardest not to make a lot of noise. As soon as I could hear children shouting from the park, I pulled my wings in. I twisted around, peering over my shoulder to make sure my wings were fully inside the jacket. Seeing no wings, just big slits, I covered those with my hair. _Note __to __self__: __Get __hair__cut__. _

"EEEEEeeeeepp!" I heard a toddler shout. I peered out of the treeline, seeing only a few more kids and some more joggers. Some teenagers, some moms with the ever-popular jogging strollers. Sweeping my gaze from left to right one more time, I saw some young kids - younger than me, but not toddlers - gazing at me with confused expression. Realizing how I looked emerging from the woods, I jumped out soundlessly and tried to put on an expression like, 'Guilty? Me? Ridiculous.'

I trotted across the park casually, trying not to draw too much attention. That's me, paranoia central. I guess it's just the compulsive need to always hide my wings. I crossed the street in front of the park again, and walked quickly down the road. I turned the street corner sharply, almost running into a biker. "Watch it!" he yelled, speeding pass me. "Yeah," I called back, knowing he probably couldn't hear me.

Finally arriving home, I found the door unlocked. I opened it and sped down the back hallway, realizing how hungry I was. Flying really takes it out of ya. I swung around the corner to find a ham sandwich sitting on the table. _Only __one__? __Hmph__. _I picked it up and walked into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I explored my options for a drink. Deciding on Coke, I picked up a large bag of potato chips that was next to the toaster. I then hurried into the den, lunch in hand.

I tried not to groan as I saw Payton sitting in the recliner, eyes glued to her phone. Her being here was going to limit my eating spree. I sat my lunch on the coffee table, seeing that Mom had at least thought of a paper plate for her lunch. _Oh__, __well__. _I thought, plopping down on the couch. I strained to eat at the rate of a normal person, but the longest time I could stand to eat my sandwich was roughly two minutes. My sandwich was followed closely by soda and a surplus of chips. I popped chip after chip into my mouth, thankful for Payton's obsession with her phone.

"Mom?" Payton asked. She shifted in the recliner to where she was facing Mom, phone still in her hands, thumbs on the keyboard.

"Yes, dear?" Mom said patiently.

"You know Emily, right? The girl who sits next to me in third period?" Payton quizzed. She started to have that deceivingly sweet look she got before she asked for something.

"You sure do talk about her a lot, yes." Mom said, half joking.

"Well, I was just wondering..." she started. _Here __we __go__. _I thought wryly. "She's having this sleepover tonight, and they're gonna be doing all kinds of fun things, and all my friends are going, and she text me asking me if I was gonna come, and I was wondering what I should tell her." Payton finished, talking fast the way she did when she wanted something. Mom exchanged a quick glance with me, and grinned, knowing Payton couldn't see it.

"Sure, hun." Mom said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Minimum Ride**

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 7: Unnecessary Celebration, eh?

That night, Payton packed her overnight bag and had Dad drive her to her friend's house. Once she was out of the driveway, I had already went to my room to change. I ended up getting a hot shower, and then throwing on a tank top and loose shorts with an elastic waistband. I trotted down the stairs, turned the corner and waltzed into the living room, wings still folded neatly against my sides.

Mom caught sight of me, and a smile lit her face. "Let's see 'em." she said excitedly. When Payton was gone, Mom loved to see my wings. Sometimes she tells me they've changed, or that the brown was darker. It was annoying, but I still appreciated the attention. I unfolded them, and smiled as the feathers ruffled and aligned. I shook them out, happy with how clean the primaries were from my shower. I loved, loved, loved my wings. Just as I was brushing down the feathers, the back door opened with its usual creak. I pulled my wings in hard, tightening them against my back.

"Payton's pretty excited. Barely stopped the car before she could jump out!" Dad called as he rounded the corner of the back hallway. He made his way to the fridge, and opened it. I saw him pull out three cans of root beer and set them on the counter. "Who wants root beer?" he asked.

"Oh, please make mine a float!" I called. He nodded and opened the freezer.

"Bryan, you've just got to come see Kate's wings! They're so pretty!" Mom said excitedly. I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. I untucked my wings a bit, letting the tips hang out by my sides. I walked quickly into the kitchen and poured root beer over the ice cream dad had scooped into a cup. I took down a straw and plopped it in my cup.

"They look just the same." I said to Dad behind my hand. He chuckled.


	9. Chapter 9

**Minimum Ride**

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 8: Midnight flight

That night, after Mom had finished oogling over my wings and had finally let me go to bed, I lay awake, sure that I wouldn't sleep a wink. When my digital alarm clock struck eleven, I pulled the covers back and wriggled out of bed. I made it over to my closet, where I threw on some jeans, and pulled on a grey hoodie that had the name of a popular clothing store sprawled across the front of it in maroon letters. I pulled my hair back, revealing some darker roots not reached by the sun's rays. I stalked toward my window, swerving to check myself in the mirror.

Upon reaching said window, I unlocked the latches, and I pulled up on the window. Once I gave a powerful shove on the window screen, it fell to the ground, unheard. I climbed onto the edge of the window, and jumped, the ground rushing up way fast. I pulled out my wings, hearing a _whoosh_ of the air as they caught, slowing me down. I snapped them in, landing lightly on the ground, crouched down, one hand in front of me to steady myself. I stood up and turned around, heading toward the screen.

I reached down, picked it up, and propped it against the side of the house. I then turned, and stalked into the darkness, away from the warm glow of my home. These were the flights Mom didn't know about. The secret, late-night ones, where it was just me, the night sky, and the air through my wings.

Finally, I reached my destination: A stretch of land between my backyard and land that of the neighbors. I held my arms behind me, and ran toward the woods, across the stretch of land. I jumped maybe seven feet up, then unfolded my wings, giving hard down strokes, countering to the strong upward stroke. I gave an unholy grin as I surged into the night. I lived in Utah, so the scenery was gorgeous. Green in some places, scarlet in others.

I had flown maybe an hour when I saw a large, dark, black van traveling on the road beneath me. Is it just me, or was that the van from before? Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Or perhaps I was born yesterday, or rather, hours ago.

Just then, a disfigured hand popped out of the passenger's seat window. It was huge, brown, and... I squinted. _Hairy__? _

The next thing I remembered was the pop of a gun, the whistle of a dart, and a sharp, peicing pain in my left thigh. Then everything went fuzzy, the world toppled over, and all went black, except it wasn't the night...

**A****/****N: ****Hey ****guys ****sorry ****I ****haven****'****t ****updated ****in ****a****while****, ****been ****wayy ****busy****. ****I****'****ll ****keep**** '****em ****coming****, ****though****. ****Please ****review****, ****I ****gotta ****know ****how ****to ****make**** '****em ****better ****for ****ya****!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Minimum Ride**

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 9: Waking up in Hell.

You see, when someone, like you, were to wake up on a cold metal table, wrists and ankles strapped down by velcro, they would freak out too, right? Okay, just checking. Because, yes, I have just woken up on a cold metal table, with my arms and legs bound uselessly. Not a fun day, by my measure. Or maybe that's just my negativity talking.

Someone had stripped me down to my tank top and shorts, and they had pulled my wings out at my sides. They were still half folded, and I tried to pull them in, time and time again, only to find that my back was pressed too tightly against the table to offer even the twitch of my wing muscles. I strained against my restraints, tugging my arms and kicking my legs. The strong, thick velcro didn't budge. So now I only lay here, scowling at the floor, angry at myself for wanting to fly at night.

A flick of the door handle on the wall to my left made me perk up. My raptor eyesight locked on the movement, but the door handle was still for endless minutes. Finally, the door opened to reveal a tall man with a slender build. He had on a white dress shirt, grey slacks, and a long, white lab coat that brushed his knees. His hair was sandy, and his eyes were framed by wire-rimmed glasses. He had a stubly beard, and his skin was pasty, as if he'd been in these white rooms for all his life.

He approached the table, and took a small remote from his pocket and clicked a button. My table rose forward, leaving me in an up-right position, facing him. I put on my fiercest look, narrowed my eyes, and shook my head slowly, as if to say, _Shame __on __you__, __you __worthless __scum__-__sucking __spawn __of __Satan__. _His eyes softened, and he frowned, leaning forward, as if to examine me, like a piece of art. I spit at his shoe, and it hit.

"How are you feeling, Kate?" the man asked. How did he know my name?

"Jim-Dandy. How are you today, scum-bag?" I said meanly, putting real venom in the words.

"Excuse me, I've forgotten my manners. My name is Jeb Batchelder, and I'm very proud of you." he said earnestly. I allowed my eyes to become of normal size, because this guy seemed like he really wanted to talk, not be insulted.

Not that that ever meant anything. "Uh-huh." I said in a bored tone. "And is that why I'm _strapped _to a _table__?"_ I said, injecting a threatening tone into my voice.

"No, and the restraints aren't necessary, if you're willing to comply." he said.

"And what does that mean?" I asked

"You must be willing to comply to what I ask of you." he repeated. "And you must promise not to harm me."

"I make no promises." I spat. "I only _agree_ that I _might_ do what you ask."

"Okay. Then you may be free, but not of this room. I wish to talk to you about some... matters." he said. Then Jeb walked over to my table, and ripped open the velcro holding back my arms, then my legs. He stood back as I leaped forward, rubbing my wrists where the velcro had chaffed them.

"What matters?" I asked. He motioned to a fake wood conference table I hadn't noticed was on the far side of this small room. I walked over to it, keeping my gaze locked on Jeb Batchelder. He pulled out a chair, and then went to sit in another across the table. I sat in the chair he had pulled out.

"Well, Kate, as you know, you are an Avian-Human hybrid, with a two-percent Avian, ninety-eight-percent Human split." he said slowly, allowing me to soak in what he was saying.

"Yeah, so?" I countered slowly.

"While you were... out, there, we were doing some examinations, and well, we couldn't help ourselves. The Director called for some experimentation." he explained.

"What _experimentations_?" I practically yelled, close to taking a swing at him.

"You were injected with some other Avian DNA. You were given the DNA of both Trochilidae, and the DNA of Bueto jamaicensis." he said proudly, like the idea of giving me _more_ bird DNA was exciting.

"And what are those?" I said through clenched teeth. The chances of me beating him up were maybe 70, 75 percent.

"Those are the scientific names for both the American Hummingbird and the Red-Tailed Hawk, which you have now been injected with." Okay, my jaw dropped. I closed it tightly, and continued to scowl at Jeb. "Now you have a four-percent Avian, ninety-six-percent split." he continued. "You see, although all of our Avian-Human hybrids have amazing speed and strength, the Avian DNA you have been grafted with is expected to increase those skills in you. Of course we are inflicted to conduct scientific experiments, so you will need to be placed in another room until we're ready for you."


	11. Chapter 11

**Minimum Ride**

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 10: What Happens in Hell

So, when evil scientists say 'another room', they really mean 'inhuman dog crate among others', which is why when my chat with Jeb Batchelder was over, two more bruly male-model types escorted, or rather hauled, me to a hall lined with dog crates. A tear actually rolled down my cheek when I saw the failures inside these cages. Most of them were 'experiments' gone wrong. A place like this really makes you stop and count your blessings.

The men more or less threw me in a large Kanine Kamper, with metal bars in front and a brown plastic roof uptop. They latched my cage, and walked down the hall, cackling like the evil weirdos they were.

I took the time to notice the bruises on my arms and legs, the red rings on my wrists and ankles. This day sucked, and the sun hadn't even risen. I think it was about five in the morning, no telling how long I was out. My wrists burned, no doubt from where I had been injected. I had my knees to my chest, fighting the cold. I noticed how fast my heart was, like a drum roll, but not quite as fast. Weird.

Jeb was the one to come and get me later. Unlatching my cage, he stepped back to allow me to crawl out. I did, but only because he had my jeans. I slipped them on happily, buttoned and zipped, then started to walk with Jeb Batchelder. He walked me down the hall quietly. "So, what am I doing exactly?" I asked. We rounded a corner.

"Well, since you have complied so far, you have the Director's mercy. Your testing will not involve needles." he said, staring straight ahead. "However, you will be fighting Erasers."

_Whatever __those __are__. _I thought acidly. "Ok, then, bring it on."

He led through a metal door, out into what looked like a prison yard. It was big, and encaged in chain link fence. Sparse tuffs of grass dotted the grey dirt. I saw many of the male-model types sitting on a long, metal bench across the yard. They were joking and laughing, but they still looked sort of mad, angry. They caught sight of me, and I watched in horror as they morphed into wolf men. Like on TV.

Trying to put on a non-chalant look, I stalked across the field. "Yo," I called loudly, trying to look lethal. "Who the hell is first?" All the.. erm.. Erasers held up their hands mockingly, and I rolled my eyes. "Okay, you, at the end. You're up." I yelled. He sprang up and advanced forward.

"Okay." said Jeb. "There will be no killing the subject. If you do so, you will be retired. Understood?" The Eraser looked less excited, but he nodded. "On my count. One. Two. _Three__!"_

I launched myself at the wolf boy, and before he had comprehended I had moved, I was on him, throwing punches like nothing else. I gave him a hard side hit, making him stagger back. I launched a roundhouse kick, which landed squarely on his chest. His breath left him, and I snapped a kick, seeming to break a rib. He fell to his knees, howling in pain. I stood over him and kicked him again bluntly, and he fell to his face, moaning.

Turning back to Jeb, I saw his jaw was dropped. "Next!" I barked, and the Erasers looked less thrilled. They kicked one of their own out into the dirt, and I faced him, hand coiled at my sides. "One." I began.

"Two," replied the Eraser.

"_Three__!" _I yelled and launched myself at the Eraser, cocking my arm back, and let my fist fly back, connecting with his ugly, _hairy _face. He landed a weak kick to my shins, trying to knock me off balance. I gave an unholy grin at the effort, and put all my strength into a snap kick that sent him to the ground quick. He sat in the dirt, coughing.

"Anyone else?" I called sarcastically. No answer. "Aw, the poor Erasers done? Too bad, I was having fun!" I crossed my arms over my chest. I half lunged at them, and they leaned back, terrified. I laughed, walking back to Jeb. "I'm done here. Anything else?"

Jeb looked shocked, but regained his calm. "No, you may rest now. How about a shower?"

"That would be great." I said with feeling, walking toward the door from which we came in. He opened it, and I strolled through. He came in, closed the door, and motioned to an orderly waiting for us. She came back with my hoodie and a bag filled with shampoo, a washcloth, and a bar of green soap. "Thanks." I said to her brightly, but she just gave me a look of fear and trotted off.

I turned to Jeb. "Now, where are these showers?"

**A****/****N ****Like ****it****? ****No****? ****Write ****a ****review****. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Minimum Ride**

_A Maximum Ride Fan Fiction_

Chapter 11: You Get What You Give

Half an hour later, I emerged from a shower stall into a steamy room, feeling fresh. I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel, clenching my toes against the tiled floor of this small bathroom. So far, my stay at Hotel de la School hadn't been all bad. Yeah, they did put me in a cage and forced me to fight Erasers, but they also made me faster, stronger, and I had defeated the Erasers, more or less.

I walked on over to the small sink and mirror, picking up the brush I'd been given. I rinsed it under the water, and raked it through my hair. Brush, _Ow__. _Brush, _Ow__. _The same old tricks. Someone knocked on the door so quietly I almost didn't hear it. But I did.

"Yeah?" I called loudly. Why can't I shower in peace?

"You have ten minutes, and then you must meet me outside the door, five paces to your left. Someone will clean up when you're done." a female voice said crisply. I couldn't help it, I chuckled. Wouldn't I just look around and see you 'five paces to my left'?

"Ten minutes I can deal with." I shouted, starting to make progress with my hair. I brushed it over one more time, and set the brush down. Tucking the towel around me, I walked over to the small table holding my clothes. My tanktop had been washed, and so had my jeans. I pulled the tanktop over my head, still warm from whatever method they used to dry it. I prayed they didn't use a laser.

When I was fully dressed, I unlocked the door and peeped out. An asian-looking woman with black hair pulled into a low pony tail stood waiting for me_, __five __paces_ to my left. She was wearing a nice purple flouncy shirt, too fancy for my taste. She tapped her white wedge heeled shoes against the linoleum floor, making her white slacks sway. Of course, she had on a white lab coat.

"I assume you are done." she said, sounding all business.

"Mhm. Sure am." I said, trying to mimic her tone.

"Good." she said, starting to walk me down a hall. "My name is Pamela Yenesen. I will be the person you will most see during your time here. You are Kate, correct?" she asked, looking me up and down.

"You betcha." I said as we turned a corner. Several Erasers passed us, and I recognized two from the field. Those two looked at me with a gleam of horror in their eyes, which went unnoticed by their buddies. They were all joking and poking at one another, laughing it up. They were all fully morphed, of course, with wolf snouts and claws pointing their finger tips, brownish hair covering their arms and legs.

"Boys," Pamela Yenesen greeted them, and with a motion of her hand they stood up straight, quieting down. They continued down the hallway, and when they thought they were out of sight, they began cackling once more. Pamela rolled her eyes, obviously not amused by their boyish humor.

We turned another corner, now walking down another hallway lined with cages with the experiments in them. Many of them I'd seen were mostly animals that were combined with other animals. Some had been small children, only they were so twisted and combined that they didn't look anything like the small children you might see in the mall. These experiments were kids, more or less, all of them. They looked mostly like they hadn't been grafted with other animal DNA, but just experimented on. Children injected with chemicals, or something. Just mistakes that made your heart hurt.

I noticed how Pamela didn't look at them, didn't make eye contact. She just stared straight ahead, looking strained, her face almost sad. I guess she doesn't like the things that were done to them. She caught my eye over her shoulder, and I looked away. From then on, I just looked around casually, try to catalogue details. I saw a sign above the cages that read, 'Non-Viable Human Species. Under observation. Do not experiment with.' I felt hot tears spring to my eyes, and I blinked them back. They were just waiting for these poor things to die, and they were watching.

Pamela led me through a push-open door, into a smaller, fatter hall lined with bigger cages. These cages held actual kids, but with weird looks. Some had webbed toes and fingers, some were changing colors as they looked around. One turned completely purple when he caught sight of me. Two or three were just kids, but with tails, animal ears, and one yawned, so I could see her razor-sharp teeth. Two kids had cages across the aisle from one another. They were normal kids with questionable hygiene. They looked sad, beat up, and skinny. Like me.

Pamela led me to a cage at the end, next to one of the normal kids. She unlatched it, and waited for me to crawl in. I gave her a scowl and crouched down, crawling in. I sat in the cage, and she crouched down to latch it. She did, then said, "These are some of the most viable experiments in the lab. You should be honored to be among them." I rolled my eyes. She continued. "I will be back to get you soon, but first I must take care of some paperwork. Please behave yourself." she smiled softly, and walked out the door we had entered.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hey, I know you guys hate this, but this chapter is just an author note. Just some information.**

**So sorry I haven't put up another chapter. I've got some drabbles but I just can't make them blur together and make sense as a story. It's very annoying, I know, but it's just as annoying for me that my writing won't function properly. Very irritating. Anyway, you can help by doing two things: **

**1) Submitting positive, encouraging reviews containing advice and/or ideas. **

**2) Following me on Tumblr .com if you're into Tumblr. Getting new followers always puts me in a good spirit, which helps (see logic below). It's also very encouraging, like, "Oh my gosh, I actually know people are still reading. I should give them what they want. Soon."**

**LOGIC**

**New followers**

**Good spirit/mood **

**Wheels turning in my mind **

**Creative juices flowing **

**A major flow of ideas **

**Writing and developing them **

**Publishing them as a chapter.**

**Happy me _and_ you. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Minimum Ride **

_A Maximum Ride fan fiction _

**A****/****N****: ****Hey ****guys****. ****I ****am ****well ****aware ****it****'****s ****been ****too ****long ****since ****I ****published ****a ****chapter****, ****and ****you ****guys ****have ****probably ****given ****up ****on ****me ****by ****now****, ****but ****here****'****s ****one ****anyway****. ****I ****tried ****to ****make ****this ****one ****longer ****than ****the ****others****, ****but ****that ****might ****diminish ****the ****whole**** '****two ****chapters ****at ****a ****time****' ****thing****. ****Sorry****. ****Anyway****, ****enjoy****. **

Chapter 14

I'm reasonably sure that when someone had told me they had paperwork to do before, they had left me in a spacious, if not poorly decorated, room with my mom. Well, it seems as though I'm not in Kansas anymore. This time, my 'keeper' had left me in a cage among the 'most viable experiments' in this hell hol- I mean "lab". Emphasis on the sarcastic quotation marks around 'lab'.

So, here I was, so better get down to business. _Plan__... __plan__... __I __need __a __plan_, my mind suggested. Okay, then... let's go with first instinct here; a plan. After mentally reviewing possibilities, I realized something: I have a very, _very _active imagination. Probably best to go with the most practical and basic plan that came to mind... which proved to be make some allies and break the heck outta here. That sounded pretty solid, so I went with it. Turning to the cage next to me, I observed its occupant. It was a skinny, fair-skinned girl with red-auburn hair. She had her back to me, which was discouraging, but I'm not one to easily give up. I swiveled in my cage to face her.

"Hi." I said loud enough for her to hear, but still not to attract the attention of the other 'experiments'. She looked over her shoulder at me and her eyes sparked for just a second, then went flat. She was pretty, with forest green eyes that looked through thick-ish eyelashes at me. She also had pink lips like anyone else, like that matters in this society, right? Anyway...

"Hey," she said, startling me out of my thoughts. She turned a bit so that her body faced the front of her cage and her head still turned toward me. "You're.. uh, zoned out."

"Oh.. sorry." I said, looking down at my hands before returning my gaze to her. I noticed this time what she was wearing: a light blue hoodie with the name of a popular clothing store displayed across the front was zipped up over a grey tank top. She was also wearing some loose-fitting jeans that looked like they had not been washed in... a while. Her grey and white sneakers were in relatively good shape, considering her conditions.

"You're doing it again.." she said questionably. She eyed me like the Pameister had done with a look that matched her tone.

"I never knew I did that so much.. weird." I said half to myself. She smiled a bit, then went back to a flat line of a mouth, which I guess was her normal. "So, what's your name?" I said, poking her through the cage a bit.

"Ivy's the name for me." she said with a grin. "And yourself?" she asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Kate." I said simply, not looking at her. My mind was other places. Actually, it was just my eyes that were other places.. My eye had actually been caught by another 'experiment' across the aisle. I was interested because he looked familiar. Like I'd known him before. I squinted a bit to get a better look through the cage bars. Definitely a guy, with fair skin and reddish-brown - a bit auburn - hair. He had forest green eyes, and - _Hey_, wait a minute! I _did_ know this guy. He was, like, the guy version of the girl sitting next to me. A reproduction of her with only one change. He was a guy.

It was at this exact moment that my extreme stupidity caught up with me. _Hel__-__lo__, __maybe __they__'__re __twins__!_ Hmm, an interesting theory. Thanks, small smart part of my brain! I'm sure the obliviousness was a side-effect of my new bird DNA. Or something. It just made me feel better to claim that it wasn't just me being an idiot. Nope. The proud part of me would never admit to it.

"Kate! Hellooo, Kate? Earth to Kate!" is what the conscience part of my mind had been hearing for the past five minutes without even knowing it. Ivy.

"Yeah, yeah, Houston, calm down." I said, still looking at the boy. "Who's that?" I said, pointing across the aisle.

"Uh... some guy who looks like me. They brought him in here a couple weeks ago. Hasn't said a word to anybody." she explained. _A __couple __of __weeks __ago__. _That part of her sentence stuck, repeating over and over in my mind. She's been here a while. Just then, the boy looked up and caught my eye, as if hearing himself being talked about. I eyed him curiously, if not a bit fiercely, and his eyes flitted away. I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them before turning my attention back to Ivy.

"How long have you been here?" I ask curiously. Her eyes harden for a moment, then she blinks a few moments to clear them. She shakes her head softly.

"I.. uh. I've been here all my life. All I've ever known is here." she says quietly, and the pity hits me like a bullet in my chest. Stupid, oblivious me, thinking everyone had been captured and held for a while. That they would find a way out, somehow, someway. I swallow and steel myself, regaining my bravado. I can't cry here, no. Not when I plan on starting some sort of rebellion.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't know." I say quickly. She looks over at me, her expression calm, not angry or upset like I'd imagined.

"No. It's okay. I don't care anymore." she says, leaning against the back of her cage. I'm about to say something, offer some consolation, when I hear the walk-through door I walked through swinging open. I freeze, but Ivy leans back her head, lips forming words I can't hear. I try leaning to the side of my cage to see who it is, but a glimpse of grey slacks and a questionably shiny pair of shoes makes me sit back in my cage, too, glaring at the linoleum in front of my cage where I know he will stop. Batchelder.

"Yes, she took out two Erasers. Very fast, faster than my eyes could track." I hear him brag on me to someone else, and resist an urge to groan aloud. Two 'scientists'? One I can handle, but two? They're really working my nerves here.

"Good, very good. The Director will be very proud." I hear the crisp voice of Pamela Yenesen, and this time I just close my eyes and count to ten to keep from screaming. My emotions are seeming to swing to extremes since I woke up on that table. Sadness for Ivy, anger at Jeb. Other little emotions in between. Pity, both for others and myself. The footsteps continue until they stop right in front of me, and I open my eyes as I hear the door to my cage being opened. I see Jeb concentrating on the latch, then jumping back as I burst from my cage. I break out in a sprint down the hall, but when two Erasers emerge from the swinging door, armed with a dart gun, I slow down and eventually stop in front of them. I could easily knock them down and continue, but I remind myself that I must cooperate if I don't want to end up passed out on a metal table again. Funny how quick they are to knock a person out around here. I turn around to see Pamela and Jeb speed-walking toward me, so I decide I must concoct some reason for running, as not to raise suspicion, which I have no doubt already have. Still, as I call toward them, I feign innocence.

"Hurry up, you guys! We're going back to the fight yard, right?" I yell, trying to inject my voice with a tone of excitement. I mix in an enthusiastic smile for good measure. Jeb makes an attempt to smile back, but Pamela looks genuinely annoyed. The fact only makes me beam more.

"Actually," explains Jeb as they catch up and lead me down the hall, "We're having a little chat over breakfast." I look over at the Pamiester, and she has taken on that business look again as we stride through the door and round a corner, the opposite way I came in.

"We need to get some basic information from you." she says, and I can almost hear the continuation of her statement: _And __what __better __motivation __than __food__? _They know me too well. Food is my main weakness, aside from soda and coffee, which I guess still qualifies as food. The thing I'm after in the drinks is the caffeine. I try to fly everyday, and it really burns energy. Jeb steps in front of me, and I stop abruptly when I see we're in front of a door. Pamela stands beside and slightly behind me while Jeb unlocks the door with a set of keys on his belt. He opens the door and steps aside, waiting for me to walk through. I see another one of those rectangle fake wood folding tables, surrounded by four metal folding chairs. As I walk through the door, I see this another one of those white-walled rooms, except with a kitchenette and the table. On the far side, next to the fridge, is another door. Jeb and Pamela walk in behind me, and Pamela gestures for me to take a seat, and I take the one that faces away from the door. There are no windows, and only the one door, so the only way of light in here is through the fluorescents. Jeb takes the seat across from me, Pamela to my right. Pamela gets right down to business, whereas Jeb keeps things light and chatty.

"When was the first time-" Pamela starts, but Jeb cuts her off.

"What do you like for breakfast, Kate?" he asks. I temporarily decide that between the two, Jeb is my favorite. Not that I like him or anything, but he's slightly more tolerable than the Pamiester. What do I like for breakfast? _What ever __there __is__. _I think about saying, but if I'm calling the shots, it's gonna be something good.

"Everything. Pancakes, waffles, omelets, bacon, sausage, ham, poptarts, toast, fruit, yogurt, muffins, danishes, biscuits, cinnamon rolls..." I name off, trying to think of more. "I eat it all."

Neither of them seem startled, or surprised, instead, Jeb asks, "And to drink?"

"Um... coffee, juice, chocolate milk... the works." I say. Jeb motions to something behind me, and I hear the door open. I turn to see several Erasers in their male model forms coming through the door, armed with all the food I listed and more. Another comes through with mugs of black coffee and cups of juice in different colors. That Eraser looks half-morphed, and when he sets down the drinks, he joins us at the table. Plates are passed out and food set out. Me and the Eraser start grabbing food immediately, we seem to both have an appetite. Right off the bat, I grab three pancakes and two waffles, drenching the whole plate in maple syrup. I add bacon, sausage, and ham on the side, and they soak in the syrup. I grab my fork and set to work, downing the pancakes before I even have time to think about the coffee sitting in front of me. I frown at the black color, and request some cream. Pamela passes a bowl of little cream filled cups to me, and I pour in around four, then add obscene amounts of sugar. Stirring and tasting, I see that it is to my liking, and drain half the mug. I'm able to scarf down the bacon and ham before anyone speaks.

"As I was previously asking, when was the first time you had a successful flight?" Pamela asks. I have to consider this while I cut chunks off the waffles. I don't remember the first time I flew. I was self-taught at a very young age, just sort of taking off around my room before I was of school age. My mother had to contain me, scolding me to not fly when other people were around. When I started school, I guess paranoia set in about ever thinking of showing my wings, the firm restrictions put on by my parents made me think it was something I shouldn't do, like being caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Around the age of eight, I guess I really started flying. My mom told me at age seven I could fly whenever I wanted, as long as I wasn't caught. Especially by Payton.

"Uh, I don't remember my first successful flight. I was too young, I guess." I notice for the first time she's jotting things down on a clipboard in front of her. Her plate only holds some fruit, and a dollop of yogurt, whereas Jeb is working down a cinnamon bun and a cup of black coffee. The half Eraser - I guess that's my name for him now on - in tearing into poptarts like there's no tomorrow. I point at the dwindling supply of toaster pastries, then gesture at the half Eraser with my fork. "Hey, save some of those for me, 'kay, buddy?"

"Don't call me 'buddy', little freak." he says defiantly, taking another poptart. I reach over and take it from his hand, and boldly take a bite of the still-warm pastry. "Hey!" he barks, and I stand up, towering over him until he jumps up, too. My fists clench, crumbling the poptart in my hand.

"Call me a freak. One. More. Time. I'm warning you." I growl. He considers this for a moment, and when he looks like he might pounce, Jeb puts a hand to his chest. The half Eraser's head snaps toward him, looking infuriated. I'm close to cracking myself, but I really don't want to kill this guy.

"Careful, Ari. She took out two newborn Erasers. She's at lethal level." He says evenly, trying to get Ari to sit back down. I hold my ground, though, half-leaning over the table. A cunning smile reaches my lips, but Ari is forced to surrender. I try not to gloat as I stuff the crumbled poptart into my mouth, claiming my victory. I sit back down and grab another, then a cinnamon roll, and some fruit and yogurt. Pamela speaks up again as I half bite, half shove the cinnamon roll into my mouth.

"Do you have any relationships with the other children in your area, e.g. your school, neighborhood, or community?" she asks.

"Yeah, I have a few close friends. Not real close with my sister, though." I say. the majority of kids at school know me, either for my grades or just knowing of me. I do have a few people I dislike, of course, and I'm not the friendliest person in the world. It took me years to fight off my paranoia enough to stay with friends, and even then I was very exclusive with what I'd do. I've only ever stayed with one friend, my best friend, Stormy Pierce. But I'd never mention her by name to these evil 'scientists'.

"Okay." Pamela intones as she scribbles across the clipboard. I start in on my juice, really starting to feel the kick of the caffeine from the coffee. I grab both a lemon and cherry danish, and three mini chocolate chip muffins. I begin to experiment with the muffins, eating each one in a bite, mentally cataloging the kind of muffin. Pumpkin. Blueberry. Raspberry. Banana Nut. Peach. The flavors continue. It's now that I notice the omelets, taking one of each to determine the type of omelet. The first one I bite into is a plain cheese.

"And when was the last time you engaged in a successful flight?" asks Pamela. I'm not sure if I can consider my being shot out of the sky a 'successful flight'. The memory brings back one of those heavy mood swings, this time so powerful I grip the table and try to focus on the steam rolling off the pot of black coffee so I don't go haywire. Is this some sort of crazy side-effect to the new strength and agility? If so, I hope it clears up, and soon. Next thing you know, I'll be crying about the time my hamster died.

"Kate? Katherine? Kate, you're breaking the table." I hear Jeb say, and my head snaps to my iron grip on the edge of the table. Sure enough, I've left a considerable crack from the grip of my right hand, making Ari tense up out of the corner of my eye. Now he has proof, good. Maybe he'll think twice about ticking me off next time.

"Kate, are you okay? Do you need some time to cool down? I can hold on the questions, if you like." I hear Pamela say, with an actual note of concern in her voice. Maybe she just worries that if I lose it, she'll be going down right with Ari over there. Yep, he's first on my list. I loosen my grip on the table, pausing for a moment to make sure it's stable, and sit back in my chair. I stare emptily at the floor under the table when I speak.

"No, no. I'm fine. It's just..." I say, then look up at her. "Would you consider being _shot_ _out of __the __sky _a successful flight?"

She looks bewildered that I'd touch such a topic. They must not know as much as I thought they did. She regains her composure before she says, "Well, no. I guess I wouldn't."

"Oh. Well, then, my last flight would be yesterday, around midday." I snap. I think Ari is trying to hold back laughter, but with the strange, distorted image of a face he has, it's a shot in the dark.

"That will be enough questions, won't it, Dr. Yenesen?" Jeb says pointedly at Pamela, and she nods, clicking her pen closed.

"Yes, that will be all. Please, finish your breakfast and have Jeb escort you to the testing yard at oh-seven hundred." she says crisply. She proceeds to stand up and push her chair in before exiting through the door we came in. Oh, good. The testing yard. _What __fun__. _

When the door clicks closed, Jeb says, "Sometimes Pamela doesn't know when enough is enough. She was the first one to agree with the Director's orders to... enhance you." This time, Ari does chuckle. It's very rough, and sounds like a mix between a hen's clucking and a dying goat. The comparison makes me hold back a smile.

"Wow, how nice of her. I'll make sure to remember that next time she takes it too far." I say nonchalantly, cutting off another hunk of omelet with my fork and stuffing it in my mouth. Ari really laughs, this time, somehow amused by my threat. His laughter is something hideous I have no comparison to. It's actually kind of sickening, but I'm not one to lose my appetite all too quickly. "By the way, what time is it?" I ask.

Jeb checks his watch. "Six thirty-two."

"Great." I say, eating away at my second omelet, which I find to have mushrooms and bacon among the cheese. Yum. "So.. what's with you? Thought all the boys went off and did their own thing." I say with a mouthful of cheese, pointing at Ari with my fork.

"Oh, excuse my manners. This is my son, Ari." Jeb says proudly, yet Ari only glares at him. He puts a paw next to his mouth, the back of it facing Jeb.

"I'm here against my own will." he says jokingly, and the attempt at friendship makes me smile a little.

"Join the club." I tease back, and on comes that hen-clucking, goat-dying chuckle. Jeb smiles along too, seeming to be the eternal good sport. I decide that Pamela now takes place as number one on my kill list, Jeb and Ari competing for a close second.

This goes on for about twenty more minutes, the teasing and smiling, the both weird chuckle from Ari, a ringing laughter from Jeb, and the occasional smile or hint of a laugh from me. The hilarity really comes around when we start mixing foods, spreading butter on poptarts, dowsing one another's omelets with milk, or someone's waffle with juice. Yogurt in Jeb's coffee. The cinnamon roll drenched in creamer and coffee turns out to actually be a good idea, so we all try it. I start to pour syrup on fruit and so does Ari, finding strawberries are best served with syrup on top. By the time we've eaten all the fruit and ruined practically everyone's coffee, Jeb tells me it's time to go. Ari asks to come and watch, and Jeb grants him permission. I would protest, but the last half hour has really made an improvement on my view of Ari. Of course, I don't think of him as a friend, but as a fellow part-animal human being, I think he's the closest thing to it I have here at the School.

Ari and Jeb lead me through a web of hallways, doors, and rooms lined with cages until we reach the door that leads outside. It amazes me how well they know their way around here, when I'd given up trying to remember my way after turn six, or was it door three? I'll never know. Anyway, this isn't the same door that I'd gone out before. No, I see that door on a building to my right. I notice for the first time that the testing yard resembles that of a prison yard, a horseshoe shape of buildings around the yard, a high chain-link fence on the open side, atop with rings of barbed wire. Instinctively, I look up, and to my surprise, there's no net or cage or anything keeping me from flying away. I notice Jeb watching me, and quickly look across the yard instead of up. In front of me, in the middle of the yard, is the bench where the Erasers sat, and to its right, a small shed-type structure with a water fountain mounted to the side. Gotta stay hydrated, after all! I scowl at the shed and look to my left, where Ari is walking past me, toward the bench. I turn to Jeb.

"What am I doing here?" I ask him. He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs.

"Apparently waiting for the rest of the scientists. Including Dr. Yenesen." He hastily checks his watch, then folds his arms again. "It's oh-seven hundred now."

"Well, then. I guess we'll just have to sit down and relax! What a _horror_!" I say mockingly, holding my hands to my cheeks. Jeb rolls his eyes at me as I stroll over and sit down on the bench, about half a seat's space away from Ari. He may be nicer than most people here, but he still kind of grosses me out. Sorry.

Jeb joins us and we just sit there in silence for a couple of minutes, and as Ari gets up to head to the water fountain, the door in front of us on the far wall swings open, revealing several people wearing white lab coats, including the Pamiester. Jeb sighs again and braces his hands on his knees before he stands up to meet them. I take that as my cue to stay seated. If this is all about me, then they can come to me. I'm not really one for social graces like standing up and shaking hands, but my extended family does get in the occasional hug. The 'scientists' come up and shake Jeb's hand one by one, and by the time he's on the second to the last one, Ari comes and sits back beside me. He doesn't stay standing and shake everybody's hand, and my respect for him seems to be more than that for Jeb. The whitecoats stand in front of me when they finish greeting Jeb, making a small herd in front of me. I wonder if they want me to stand, to greet them cordially, maybe curtsey or something. I don't, however, I just stay sitting while they watch my every movement, my every breath. It's really starting to get awkward by the time Pamela makes her way up to Jeb, giving a terse nod before turning to me and the whitecoats. I hope Pamela can make note of the scowl on my face.

"Ladies, gentlemen." Jeb begins, and they all turn toward him reluctantly. "As you must all be aware of, this is subject three five one four, otherwise known as Katherine. I expect you to treat her with the utmost of courtesy during these tests, for she has shown impressive cooperation. A true model for experiments." he explains. _A __model __for __experiments__? _So, is that what the proper term is? 'Experiments'? _Wow__, __way __to __dig __deep__, __Jeb__. _

The whitecoats murmur excitedly amongst themselves while I glare at Jeb. He doesn't notice, though, he's too busy talking with Pamela while she's undoubtedly noting the day's events since she left the room. Or so suggest the untraceable scribble of her pen across the clipboard. The other whitecoats begin preparing, too, one that I can see drawing up a chart, others taking out instruments and measuring the weather and wind. One finally approaches me, a tall, thin, balding man with dark grey hair and wrinkles set in his pale face. His grey eyes look tired, and the droop of his skin sets his face in a permanent scowl.

"Hello, Katherine." he starts, his voice deep and slightly rusty. "We're just going to measure your heart rate and blood pressure before we start. Is that okay?" I can't help but compare him to my late great grandfather, a man of similar looks and age. But the resemblance stops there. This man would probably take a knife to me in a heartbeat, dissect my air sacs or something. I cringe mentally at the thought.

"And who are you?" I ask critically. The man looks taken aback for a moment before he answers.

"Dr. Whitlon." he says calmly. I narrow my eyes at him for a moment.

"No needles?" I ask.

"No needles."

I hold my arm out in front of me, and he takes an oldschool blood pressure measurer from the pocket of his lab coat, the kind you have to pump manually. He velcros the cuff around my arm, and I have a momentary flashback of waking up on a cold metal table, feeling totally vulnerable against my velcro restraints. I grip something, anything, while the man pumps the cuff with air, tightening it around my arm, which doesn't help.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow! Kate, let go!" I hear Ari yell, and I realize what I grabbed was his furry wrist. The bone feels as if it can't take anymore tension, so I release him before he has to leave this field by way of injury. Jeb promised him he could watch, after all. Ari looks at the doctor. "You're not going to get a right measure right now. She's too pumped." Dr. Whitlon looks him over critically, before releasing my arm. He still calls out my results to a nearby woman whitecoat, who writes it down along with about five others.

"Sorry." I mumble at Ari, but he doesn't acknowledge me. Just rubs his wrist obsessively. The doctor take out his stethoscope, something I'm at least familiar with. He instructs me to take deep breaths as he holds it first over my heart, then to my back, where my lungs are. Apparently aware of my air sacs, he also hold it to the sides of my midsection and tells me to breathe deeper, and hold it longer. Jeb comes walking up, arms crossed across his chest again. One look at me and he knows something isn't right. I see it on his face.

"Are you okay, there, son?" He asks, referring to the way Ari keeps flexing his wrist.

"Fine." Ari mumbles, and Jeb nods.

"And you, Kate?" he says, more concern in his voice. I glare at him and breathe a little easier when Dr. Whitlon puts his stethoscope around his neck and goes to join the other whitecoats in some conversation that I'm most likely the topic of.

"Silently freaking out." I squeak, and look at the ground. I feel my wings unconsciously folding out, inspiring gasps, silence, then more murmurs from the crowd of whitecoats. Ari scoots down the bench to compensate for the space my wings take up. Jeb crouches down in front of me, hands on my shoulders, but I just continue to stare at the ground.

"This wasn't supposed to happen." he says quietly to himself when he thinks he doesn't have my attention. He then looks up at me. "Kate, you need to calm down. The scientists here just want to observe a little flight pattern, take some notes. Maybe a little blood." My head snaps up at that last comment, and he consoles me quickly. "Most likely not. And if so, it won't even hurt." he reassures me. I nod and swallow, trying to steel myself, to force back the emotions for the second time today. He stands up and steps back for one of the female whitecoats, a young-looking woman, maybe thirty, with shoulder-length brown hair and freckles under her controlled green eyes. She crouches down, too, and avoids my eye as she takes a metal cuff out of her pocket and quickly attaches it to my ankle as I try to break free of her grasp, kicking strongly, but not fast enough to prevent her from succeeding.

She lets me off the hook, surprisingly, saying a loud, "Thank you for your cooperation." before scuttling off to join the other whitecoats. The cuff starts beeping, and flashing a small, green light before tightening to fit my ankle snugly. _A__tracking__device__. _my mind notes. I jump off the bench and look up to see Jeb biting his nails. I wonder if he thinks this will trigger me. He must. Pamela strides forward and stands a few feet away from me.

"Katherine, if you would, we'd like you to perform your basic flight, and feel free to stray as far from the facility as you like, as long as you're back in three hours." she says in her most uniform way.

"I don't have a watch." I complain, stroking my right wing with my left hand, the feathers smooth and silky under my touch. Pamela rolls her eyes and takes off her own watch, handing it to me. I fasten the thin, silver timekeeping piece around my right wrist. "Oh, and I had a jacket on when I came. Where is that?"

Pamela calls over the young brown-haired girl, and quietly gives her directions to a room in the facility while handing her a keyring. The girl nods and walks quickly off, breaking into a sprint across the yard. She must be about twenty-five or so to run like that. She disappears behind the door, and Pamela gives me a look that says, 'You're making me look bad.' Taking advantage of her annoyance, I raise my hand and point toward the crowd. "And who here has something I could take to eat?" I ask, and Jeb steps forward, pulling out his wallet.

"There's a small strip mall about ten miles from here. It has both a diner and a grocery store. Get what you like." he says, handing me a few twenties and patting my shoulder. I smile and turn back to Ari, flaunting my new riches. He just rolls his eyes. I seem to spark quite an annoyance here. Just then, the girl comes bursting out of the door, my hoodie in hand. She sprints over and hands it to me, giving a small nod as I take it and tie it around my waist, folding in my wings.

"Okay, I'm good now. I'll see you guys later!" I say, giving a small wave and turning toward the fence. I saunter forward a few steps, then break out in a run. About three yards away from running smack dab into the fence, I jump up, arms ahead of me, and unfurl my wings. They catch the air forcefully, and after a few down strokes, I'm able to circle around the School once, looking down to see Jeb pointing south, toward the buildings. I nod, knowing he can't see it, and turn south. Every head is looking up at me, so I make a show of loopty-loops and twists high into the air before jetting off in the direction of the strip mall. Surrounding the whole School is a thick forest, the only break in the trees being the one road entry to the School. I focus on the edge of those woods, but take my time swooping and banking through the air, feeling the sun on my face and warming my feathers. It's a calm yet invigorating feeling, flying through a cloudless sky on a warm day. Was it only yesterday that I was visiting my beloved field, dropping from the high treehouse? Yes, it was. Only another Saturday, one where my mom texted a robot, Payton obsessed over social status, and I ate enough food to feed a small army. Here comes another mood swing, I can feel it. This time it's sadness, hurt, a pang of longing. I decide now would be the best time to land, so I circle lower and lower over the woods until I'm able to duck down beneath the canopy of trees, banking abruptly to practice the weaving maneuver I've yet to master. I burst through a break in the trees and make a snap decision to land in a tree across the clearing. I swerve up into an upright position as I use my wings as a break, holding out my arms to grab the tree. I get purchase on the tree, thankfully, and find a branch to place my feet on. I turn around strategically, as to not fall out of the trees, and brace my back against the tree. I slowly slide down the trunk into a sitting position, my knees tucked up to my chest. Finding balance on my perch, I reach over to the next tree and pluck a few leaves from it. Popping in my mouth, I begin to chew, saliva mixing with the minty greens to form a type of cud, similar to that of a cow. I chew contently, eyes half closed, peering through the sunlighted clearing to the trees across the way. A few birds hop around the branches, singing occasionally. I decide to try and join in their tune, singing a simple melody at first. A few chirps answer, and I take that as my invite to join the conversation. I start to whistle out every bird song I know, getting many similar responses.

After what my new watch tells me is an hour, I decide that it's time to go somewhere. I'll be the first to admit I'm not very fond of social affairs with people I don't know, but then again, I can literally break someone in half if they lay a finger on me. I guess that should give a confidence boost, so I stand up in my tree before I can talk myself out of it. I spread my arms in my usual manner, letting myself fall from the branch. This tree is shorter than my treehouse, causing a quicker response time. I'm forced to simultaneously retract my arms and unfold my wings, desperately flapping as my shoes graze the ground. Somehow, I manage to gain some distance from the ground, looping around and flying off toward the strip mall.

It takes no time at all to fly the estimated ten miles, landing behind what once was a department store, but now just sits empty. My pull-over is still tied around my waist, and I take some time to brush off dirt left from the tree trunk before pulling it over my head. In the pocket is a hair elastic, and I pull my hair back in an unceremonious way. About fifty yards off is a gas station, accompanied by a grocery store. Fifty more yards off from that lies an old school red-and-white diner with a sign that reads 'Kenny's'. I decide that the diner would be the best choice, and start walking jogging over to it, catching the eyes of a teenager-y girl pumping gas into her car as I pass. I completely ignore her and her little blue car, walking up to the diner and pulling the door open, achieving a _Ring__! _from the bell above the door.

**A****/****N****: ****Like ****it****? ****Don****'****t****? ****Let ****me ****know****, ****if ****you ****want****. ****Be ****nice ****to ****know ****someone ****hasn****'****t ****stopped ****reading ****altogether****. ****Anyway****, ****long ****chapter****, ****expect ****another ****long ****one ****next ****time****. ****Been ****working ****on ****it****. ****Maybe ****be ****posted ****by ****next ****week****, ****maybe ****half ****a ****week ****after ****that****. ****I ****don****'****t ****know****, ****I****'****m ****tired****, ****and ****busy****, ****and ****tomorrow****'****s ****Monday****. ****Inspiration ****comes ****and ****goes****, ****and ****so ****does ****time ****to ****write****. *****shrug***** **


End file.
